Vignettes on the Death of Fred
by Celaenooo
Summary: I've written a series of oneshots from separate points of view, all revolving around the tragic demise of Fred Weasley. So far I've only posted one. Lots of reviews and I might just post the next chapter.


Vignettes on the Death of Fred

**1: Lee Jordan**

The night of the Battle of Hogwarts was the strangest night of my life. As the battle raged, I fought without thinking, picking off what Death Eaters I could as George and I hurtled through the corridors. Incantations seemed to spring into my head without being called there; my wand flashed almost of its own accord, my fingers not pausing to consult my already overloaded brain. Spells flew, glass shattered, people shouted all around me – but I had ceased to be myself. In those loudest, craziest of hours, Lee Jordan was an alter-persona I pushed out of my mind, so I wouldn't have to worry about anything other than the faceless Death Eater in front of me. Chasing after Death Eaters, I saw flashes of my friends' faces, but I wouldn't let myself think their names or consider the amount of danger they were in. If I had, I'd have become paralyzed with fear.

It was only in the lull of a deserted hallway or the darkness of an alcove behind a portrait that I remembered who I was and what I was doing. Those instances never lasted long, though. George would grab my arm and we'd run ahead, flinging hexes at anyone who came near us wearing Death Eater robes. Neither of us had a specific destination in mind. It was our job to debilitate as many Death Eaters as we could manage, and so we did, hurtling through the castle like madmen.

Later (I don't remember when it was, or where) we'd come upon the entrance to a passageway. Death Eaters streamed in and out of the hole, hoods up, cloaks flapping, wands raised. Guess I should have known exactly which passageway it was; hadn't I been through each and every one countless times with Fred and George? But we had no time to think. George's wand flashed, his spells lighting up my peripheral vision; and I moved, too, thrown once again into robot-mode in the onslaught of hooded figures and hidden faces. I shouted, ducked, dodged. And all of the sudden- a rumble, a great booming noise, so loud that the floor shook and vibrations sent waves through my gut. The sound was so tremendous, I was afraid the castle had lost a tower, or was going to crumble on top of us at any moment.

It didn't. But I had been shocked, momentarily, back into myself. With the Death Eaters distracted for a moment, a second, I glanced back at George, expecting to see him dueling; but instead, he was clutching his chest, bent nearly double, face ashen and pale.

I heard myself call his name. "GEORGE! ARE YOU–" But my voice was cut short by noise from up ahead. More hooded men had burst through a concealed door, shouting, coming toward us. I raised my wand and began to run forward; but for one split second, I caught George in the eye, and was shaken to the core by what I saw there. When had George Weasley ever been afraid? When the floor shook and our ears rang with the sound of whatever happened – he knew something had gone wrong –

With a strangled hiss, a jet of light missed my shoulder by a hair's width. I sprang back into action, defending us, but I didn't stop thinking that time. Robot-mode had been switched off, and I was slipping up, my reactions not as quick, because I couldn't stop thinking about George – what he had heard, what was wrong. We were lucky, though. The Death Eaters were intent on getting somewhere. They didn't try to finish us – only get past us, panting, wild-eyed. George, upright again and fighting fiercely, Stunned one and then another. Soon the Death Eaters were either smoking on the floor or hurtling around corners ahead of us. We didn't try to follow the ones who got away; instead, George pulled me behind a tapestry and on through the passageway beyond. "Come on," he said, voice strained. "I've got to find Fred."

A sick wave of understanding washed through me then, and I nearly tripped over myself. George paused for half a second as I pulled myself up in step beside him. "George –" I sputtered. "Fred's got to be – he's okay, he's fine –"

George didn't answer.

The passage spilled us out into a second floor corridor near a staircase, which we thundered down. I expected a hooded Death Eater to rush out at us at any moment, to block our path down the stairs, but none came. An eerie silence had descended over the castle, actually; the by-then-familiar noises of combat and the omnipresent shouting of incantations had faded. My heart hammered in my throat. We neared the Entrance Hall, and with each step we took, a panic grew inside me that I couldn't push away. What would we find –?

The double doors of the Dining Hall were obscured by little knots of people huddling together. The fighting had subsided, for a time. George stumbled into the middle of the hall, staring around frantically. And me? A fear, a panic, an unexplained and most unnerving sensation, rose up inside me as it never had before. I was still myself, still Lee. I was strangely in tune to everything I heard and saw, waiting, listening, scanning the Hall for a glimpse of my friends or family, to know that they were okay –

A harsh and terrible cry sounded from the top of the Main Staircase, littered with rubble; Percy Weasley, face streaked with grime and tears, stood at the top. He stared down at George with eyes like I have never seen – anguished beyond comprehension. Behind him stumbled Mr. Weasley, bent over with shoulders slumped as though he was struggling to carry something heavy. Was he crying, too? I saw Angelina Johnson walking beside him, eyes wide, hanging onto bits of the thing in Mr. Weasley's arms, and I almost fell over for the fear of it. What was it? What happened? What?

Percy broke away from the rest of them and stumbled down the stairs toward George, who stood stock-still with his mouth open and his hands clenched at his sides. I think I visibly shook as I heard Percy sobbing, walking to George, barely able to speak. "George, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he wailed. "There was nothing I could do, I'm so sorry..."

Mr. Weasley turned toward me, for a moment, and I saw that the thing in his arms was not a something at all, but rather a someone. A someone with flaming red hair and freckles, his face the mirror image of his brother's, and one of my very best friends. Limp and unmoving. I knew then, and in an instant, I slipped back into my robotic state of mind, pushing away the shock and grief that rolled over me like a wave.

Time slowed. Images blurred. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw George fall to his knees.

But I had stopped being myself. In those darkest, deepest of moments, Lee Jordan was a person I could not bear to be... instead I steeled myself, guarded my emotions, so I wouldn't have to think about anything other than the Death Eaters preparing for a fight out on the grounds. Fred Weasley was dead, and once again, I had become a machine.

I straightened up, shaking, and steeled myself for the battle I knew was yet to come.

* * *

_Just so you know, guys, I hated this one. The whole "machine" train of thought just didn't work out for me. It might also have something to do with the fact that I made Lee a little… cowardly. Ah, well…please please please tell me what you thought! If you liked it, I might post a second chapter written from Ginny's point of view. _


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